


Being Timmy's girl

by Betzalee



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Betzalee/pseuds/Betzalee
Summary: Timmy/Reader one shots that I've decided to write because I love making myself suffer.





	1. Party night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, these are just some one shots that I've decided to write about meeting Timmy. Hope ya'll enjoy!!

The amount of things the two of you have in common is uncanny. You never believed in soulmates before and the idea of having another half always confused you. But with Timmy… With Timmy you can’t help but to feel, to believe, that he is, in more ways than one, you’re soulmate. That he’s the other half your soul had been missing for all these years. He completes you just as much as you complete him. And it’s crazy because you never thought this could happen. Because he was a star, high up in the sky, so far out of your reach and unattainable. You were just a fan, a supporter. You loved him but knew that he would never love you. 

So when you met him for the first time at your friends birthday party, you were throughly surprised. You didn’t know he knew your friend from when he had studied at NYU for that one semester, so when you saw him entering the cramped living room you thought you were hallucinating. The vodka and shots of tequila had definitely gone to your head and you were seeing this beautiful mirage. But when people around the room started to whisper, “Oh shit, is that Timothee Chalamet?” you knew that your vision was real. That he was there, sharing the same space as you, breathing the same air. He didn’t seem so unreachable now. 

You don’t go up to him though because you’re shy like that and because you respect people’s space. You don’t want to seem like a creep, especially since there are already people all over him, telling him how much they love and admire him. He looked happy at first, but then you noticed how uncomfortable he became and your heart ached for him. Because at the end of the day he was just a 22 year old boy who wanted to get trashy drunk at his friend’s party. You looked away for a brief moment when someone bumps into you and when you look back towards Timmy, he’s no longer there. You’re disappointed because you were enjoying staring at him from across the room. You sigh and bite your lip but go back to enjoying your time at the party. 

20 minutes later, you’re in desperate need of a cigarette so you tell your friends that you’ll be out at front. They don’t join you because they don’t smoke, but you don’t mind. You sort of want to be alone and process the whole  _Timmy is at the same party as me,_  deal. But when you step out of the building, you run into Timmy. He’s sitting down on the front steps, looking pensive. You hesitate for a moment before actually making your way down and sitting next to him. He looks surprise when you sit, but smiles.

“Mind if I smoke?” You ask him, because if he doesn’t like the smell then you have no problem with moving away. But he only smiles and shakes his head. You offer him one but he turns it down and goes back to staring off into the distance. 

You guys sit in silence for a while, until finally, your resolve breaks down and you ask him: “Why are you out here?”

He shrugs. He seems tired and your heart aches for him. 

“Too crowded.”

You chuckle and flick the ash off your cig. “That’s usually what happens when you throw a party in a tiny apartment.”

That gets a chuckle out of him and he turns to look at you.”What are you smoking?”

“American Spirits.”

“I guess I’ll bum one then.” He says and puts his hand out. You’re surprise because you were more the positive that Timmy didn’t smoke. But then again, you don’t really know him so that was just a wild assumption. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You still find yourself saying as you hand him a cig and your lighter. 

“Occasionally,” he shrugs as he brings it to his lips and lights it. “I barely smoke anymore though, since the paps are always on my ass.” 

“Must be tough.” You say sympathetically. “But why do you care if they catch you smoking?”

“People don’t usually like it if you smoke.”

You look at him for a moment, because there’s so much you’d like to say but don’t want to step out of line and offend him. He notices you staring and smile shyly at you, which makes your heartbeat accelerate. 

“What?” He says and a stray curl falls on his face and you want to touch it so badly. But you refrain yourself from doing so and shake your head. You take a drag and let the smoke out through your nose. 

“You shouldn’t care about people’s opinions. It’s not good for you.”

He stays quiet and looks away from you. For a moment you think you’ve blown this. That he’ll get up and walk away and he’ll be unreachable again. But then he speaks. It’s low but you can still hear the words. It pains you.

“If they don’t like me, then I’m screwed.” 

You want to cry. Because what the actual fuck? 

You’ve been his fan for the longest now and you’re well aware of Timmy’s self deprecating methods and you feel sad because the whole world fucking loves him. People actually worship him and he thinks that if he’s seen smoking, it would ruin his image???? He actually believes that people would stop loving him for being himself? That shouldn’t hurt you as much, but it does. Because it also reminds you of your own struggles. Of trying to fit in and be accepted for who you are. It reminds you of the days you spent crying in your room because you didn’t think you were good enough for people. Of the days where you thought no body loved you. 

You end up telling him all this. And he listens. He fucking listens. 

You’re crying by the end of it and he’s got tears in his eyes and when he asks if he could hug you, you don’t hesitate. And it’s weird, because his hug feelings like coming home. It completes a part in you that had always felt empty. It fills you with such unexplainable joy and you never want to let go. 

So it starts from there. From that fateful night at that cigarette break you decided on taking. 

You guys end up talking about music afterwards, and he’s actually shocked that you guys have the same taste in music. He questions this at first, and even asks if you’re making it up because you know who he is. You laugh at this accusation and take of your phone. You show him your playlists and he chuckles when he sees the titles of them. 

“It’s lit?” He asks. 

“Yeah. I listen to it when I want to get lit.”

He laughs and presses the shuttle button. 

Goosebumps by Travis Scotts comes up and he begins to dance. He looks like a goddamn dork so you laugh. He looks at you and smiles, continuing to dance. In a few seconds you end up joining him. You both look like idiots but you love it so much so you don’t care. 

Hours later, the two of you are still sitting down on the steps, talking about everything and anything that comes to mind. It’s refreshing and you’ve never felt so comfortable with another being before. You wish you could spend all your nights this way, but you know you’re probably being crazy and that after this night, Timothee Chalamet would go back up to the sky and you’ll remain down here, admiring him from below.

Except that doesn’t happen. 

When the clock strikes 2 am and people start leaving the party, he gets up and dusts off his pants. You do the same. 

“Guess the party’s over then.” He says as he walks down the steps.

“Yep. Can’t say I mind missing it though.”

He smiles shyly at you and you end up blushing. He notices. 

“Yeah, I can’t say I mind either.”

You two stand quiet for a moment before he speaks:

“I know this is probably weird but, you wanna go to IHOP?”

You smile at him and nod. 

“Lead the way.”


	2. Running back to you

Life is crazy. One minute you’re rushing out of your apartment in a sour mood because your alarm didn’t go off and now you’re going to be super duper late for class, the next, you’re bumping into the most beautiful guy you’ve ever had the fucking pleasure of seeing. 

It all starts like this. 

You go to sleep late the night before because you’re working on an essay that you’d been procrastinating all week on. Once you’re finally done, you forget to set your alarm and in the morning, you wake up 30 minutes late and have to leave the house without even showering. You’re annoyed because you hate being late and know that it’ll take you at least 30 extra minutes to get to the NYU campus from your home. You debate missing class but know that if you do, you might fail the class. So you decide to go then, and not risk getting an F, (your GPA can’t afford it.) But then the train is being slow as fuck and 30 minutes turn into 35, which then turn into 40. You’re fuming at this point and you just want to go home and sleep. But you don’t, because you’re a good student goddamn it and you’re going to make it to that class even if you’re a whole hour late at this point. 

When you finally get off the train, you break into a run because the building is literally a block away. You’re not paying attention to anyone or anything so when you bump into someone and fall on your ass, you’re honestly surprised. You groan in pain and are ready to curse whoever knocked you over out, but when you look up, you see an angel staring down at you with a look of concern on it’s face. All the anger and annoyance leaves your body and you’re just sitting there, with a dumbfounded look on your face as Timothee fucking Chalamet puts his hand out and says:

“Fuck, I’m so, sorry. Are you okay?”

You blink a couple of times, because shit. This cannot be fucking real. This must be a dream right? You never actually woke up this morning. The first thing that comes to mind is pinching yourself. Timmy stares at you in confusion but this is obviously a dream so it doesn’t matter, right? Except it’s not a dream, because when you pinch yourself it fucking hurts and you actually let out a small “ouch.” 

“Hey, are you okay?” Timmy says again. And this time he’s crouching down in front of you and you just blink a couple of times again, because, THIS. CANNOT. BE. REAL.

People are starting to stop and stare but you just can’t react. It’s not until Timmy places a hand on your arm that you snap out of whatever trance you had fallen into. You shake your head and stammer out an:

“I-i’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I can call an ambulance if you want.”

You laugh at the absurdity of it all and Timmy looks even more confused. 

“Sorry, sorry.” You say because you don’t want to scare him. 

He smiles amusedly at you and you feel your heartbeat accelerate. This cannot be fucking real. 

“Do you need any help getting up?”

You nod because your legs are jelly right now and you know for a fact that if you try to get up, you’ll fall right back down on your ass again. 

He gets up and puts out his hand which you gratefully take. And then you feel it. That electrifying connection you’ve read about in love books and you feel the softness of his palm against yours and you don’t ever, ever, ever want to let go. You don’t even know how you were able to get up, but one minute your on the ground, the next, your standing in front of him, still holding on to his hand. 

“Thanks.” You’re able to say. Because you might be crazy but you’re not rude. 

“No problem.” He says, and he still hasn’t let go of your hand. 

This is fucking insane. 

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment until you remember that you need to be in class now, or you’re going to fucking fail. 

“Shit. I have to go.” You say as you retrieve your hand back. You notice that he looks disappointed but you don’t dwell on it too much because you don’t have time. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, and you don’t know why he’s asking or why he sounds like he doesn’t want you to go.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to be in class so if I don’t leave now I’m going to be in serious trouble.” You don’t know why you’re telling him this, and you definetly don’t know why he cares, but he does. Because that sad puppy look that he had on his face vanishes and he perks up a little as he says: 

“Oh. Do you go to NYU?”

“Yeah.” You look towards the building and debate whether to risk it all and stay with Timmy who for some wild fucking reason wants to have a conversation with you, or leave right the fuck now and be a respectable student. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m making you more late, aren’t I?” Timmy looks apologetic. 

Fuck it. 

When live gives you lemons, you make lemonade. 

When life throws Timmy Chalamet your way, you skip class even though it means you might fail. 

“It’s okay. I’m already an hour late anyways so I’m just not going to go.”

Timmy looks bewildered by your comment. 

“Really? I mean, how long is the class for?”

You look down at your watch, then back at him. “Until 11, and it’s now 10:30. There’s really no point.”

Timmy scratches the back of his head in that adorable way you’ve watched him do it on video and you honestly cannot believe that THIS IS FUCKING HAPPENING. 

“Shit, now I feel bad.”

“For what? I was the dumbass who forgot to set her alarm last night.”

He laughs at this and your insides swell up with pride because YOU JUST MADE TIMMY CHALAMET laugh goddamn it. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” You end up stuttering. 

“Huh?” He says, looking confused again. It’s a good look on him.

“This,” you say as you signal to the two of you. “Running into you. I think this is a dream.”

“Is that why you pinched yourself?” He says in a cheeky way and your heart fucking stops because IS HE FLIRTING WITH YOU? Probably not. You look like shit and probably smell too because YOU DIDN’T FUCKING SHOWER. So no, he’s probably, definitely not flirting.

“Uh, no.” You say, but he knows you’re lying so he smirks and you end up blushing. 

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me?” He asks out of nowhere and you’re honestly fucking shock because WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING.

“What?” 

“Breakfast?” 

You agree because not agreeing would be the dumb shit to do and ten minutes later you find yourself sitting down at a small diner in front of the love of your fucking life. It’s a little awkward at first, because not only are you awkward and nervous but he’s also awkward and nervous. You still can’t wrap your head around any of this and you tell him this.

He laughs and says that he’s just a normal guy and you say:

“Normal guy my ass.”

He laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever fucking heard and you want to hear it again and again and again until you go deaf. 

You end up telling him how you’ve admire his work ever since you saw Call Me By Your Name and a proud smile appears on his face and he says “thank you.” When the food arrive, you two end up talking about Kid Cudi and his greatest songs and how much the two of you relate to every song in Man On The Moon II. From there, you two start talking about the fear of rejection and of not being good enough and of how you both want the whole world’s approval and how hard and unrealistic it is to ever achieve that. 

You two have so much in common so it doesn’t come off as a surprise when you look at the clock on the wall and realize that it’s 2 O’clock already. you guys have been talking for four hours straight and didn’t even fucking notice. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, when he notices you spaced out.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Nothing. It’s just… We’ve been here since 10:40 and it’s now 2.”

His eyes widen in surprise and he looks down at his watch. 

“Holy fuck. That’s crazy.”

“I know right. Time sure does fly when you’re having a good time.”

Timmy smiles and leans forward. “It sure does.”


End file.
